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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27226666">The Wedding Deal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lioness47/pseuds/lioness47'>lioness47</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:01:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,858</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27226666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lioness47/pseuds/lioness47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the movie The Wedding Date.</p><p>For agweek2020, theme "Trapped Player." </p><p>My first P x S fluff!</p><p>This will be a short and will not continue through to conclusion as the movie does. If anyone would like to continue it on after I complete the beginning, please feel free.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>He sounds cute,</em> Sansa thought, skimming the racy article for the hundredth time. Could a man <em>sound </em>cute?</p><p>Well, he was certainly desirable, judging from his rate. The highest in the agency, or so the discreet coordinator told her. What was the lady’s name? Ros something-or-other. She promised Harold Hardyng would not disappoint.</p><p>That helped reassure Sansa. She couldn’t take any more disappointment, especially not now, during Margaery’s weeklong wedding extravaganza.</p><p>Where Sansa’s ex-boyfriend Joffrey would <em>inescapably </em>attend every event as well.</p><p>Sansa stroked the glossy page of the magazine as if she could coax more information from her fingertips. But she’d have to wait until she met Harry… the escort… in person.</p><p>From the bedside table, Sansa’s cell rang.</p><p>
  <em>Margaery Tyrell.  </em>
</p><p>Without even saying hello, Sansa picked it up and sighed, “Yes, I have a date for your wedding, Marg.”</p><p>The disgruntled moan from the other end told Sansa her friend was put-out, but she quickly chirped, “Fantastic, brilliant. I just didn’t want you to be sulking about, Sans. I know Joffrey’s presence isn’t a welcome one for you.”</p><p><em>That’s one way to put it,</em> Sansa thought, frowning. Almost as if it were her fault she couldn’t get past the break-up. </p><p>After Margaery’s mother and grandmother had passed away, the Tyrell girl spent a lot of time with the Starks. At first, Sansa thought it was because her brunette friend clearly had a crush on her brother Robb. But over time, Margaery became like an adoptive daughter to their family, Catelyn eagerly filling in the need for female/motherly energy she was missing back in Highgarden. Throughout the years Margaery often stayed with the Stark family during winter and summer breaks.</p><p>She was like a sister to Sansa. And having her near-sister marry Joffrey’s actual brother, wasn’t a future Sansa ever predicted.</p><p>
  <em>Then again, no one ever predicted I’d venture far beyond the nest, as far as New York City. </em>
</p><p>Margaery Tyrell and Tommen Baratheon were beyond dissimilar. Even Tommen’s mother, Cersei Lannister, didn’t approve of the match, which was how the Starks wound up hosting most of the wedding festivities. The only advantage to the union Sansa could see was that Tommen would turn a blind eye to Margery’s wandering one. </p><p>“So, dish, girl… who is he, how long have you been dating?”</p><p>Before Sansa could reply, Margaery asked, “He’s not going to make the wedding photos look bad, is he?”</p><p>Sansa lifted her chin, feeling bold.</p><p>“His name is Harry, we’ve been dating for three weeks and Marg… he’s so hot he’s going to make the photos blow up your Instagram.”</p><p>#</p><p>Petyr hated bad investments and <em>Harry the Hasty </em>was pressing his luck. The kid might look good, might charm the ladies, but he was no use to anyone laid up in half a body cast.</p><p><em>Dammit,</em> Petyr cursed, hitting a red light.</p><p>“Take a left at the corner,” he told his driver. He was already late and he wasn’t looking forward to this meeting.</p><p>Alyane Stone, she called herself. An obvious alias. Most women who utilized his escort agency employed a pseudonym of some kind, though he wasn’t sure the point on this occasion. The week-long engagement alongside her family would surely require the use of her real name. But Petyr supposed it made the girl feel better to keep it confidential until she met her date-to-be. Or she preferred to remain anonymous in case of backing out, as clients sometimes did.</p><p>Of course, Petyr always kept the deposit.</p><p>But he’d need to <em>pay</em> money in this case, to smooth over the fiasco Harry created when he chose to go skydiving the day before his departure to England, breaking half his body and leaving Petyr – and this new client - high and dry.</p><p>Petyr’s staff was already working on a replacement, but that would take a day at least, making today’s flight to London no longer feasible. He’d offer the girl a discount, maybe two free nights with another escort, something along those lines. He’d figure it out, gauge how angry she was when he met her to apologize, in person.</p><p>A meeting with Petyr Baelish, owner and founder of this agency and countless others, was a prize in itself. He measured his time in platinum.</p><p>The black car slid to a stop alongside the curb.</p><p>Petyr glanced up from his phone and did a double-take.</p><p>
  <em>Her? </em>
</p><p>He craned his neck to look up and down the sidewalk.</p><p>It couldn’t be her. What need had a goddess like that to <em>pay </em>for a date? Tall, statuesque, hair brilliantly red. Her thin frame was draped in a cream blouse, hugging her modest curves. Long, pale legs stretched out beneath a brown miniskirt. Smart, matched luggage sat by her feet.</p><p>The redhead bit her lip and shifted her weight, peaking down the street, nervous.</p><p>It had to be her.</p><p>Wordlessly, Petyr stepped out of his car. He didn’t need to tell the driver to wait; the man knew. Besides, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the stunning creature he approached beside the steps to her building.</p><p>She looked him up-and-down, her eyes rounded, and then she <em>smiled.</em></p><p>Petyr was a goner when she flashed that grin.</p><p>“H- hi,” she said shyly. She bit her pink lip again. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’m A- Alayne.” Bright blue eyes locked on his, making his heart thud. “You didn’t bring your luggage?”</p><p>Petyr’s mind had turned to mud in her presence. It took him far too long to realize the obvious.</p><p>
  <em>She thinks I’m Harry. </em>
</p><p>And by that smile…<em> she likes what she sees.</em></p><p><em>Well,</em> Petyr thought, making some quick calculations in his head (he needed to rent an aircraft, expedite flight plans, have Olyvar start packing his luggage…) <em>Who am I to correct a goddess?</em>  </p><p>He licked his lips in anticipation. A better man might have felt hesitant, guilty even. Petyr never had time for such nonsense. When an opportunity presented itself, however unusual, a bold man grabbed it.</p><p>“I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Stone. That’s what I came by to tell you. I’ve been delayed and will need some time to pack my things. Unfortunately, we’ll no longer make the flight. But don’t worry, to make up for the inconvenience, the agency arranged for us to travel in style.”</p><p>Alayne sucked in a breath. “I – I don’t know that I should skip my flight,” she said nervously.</p><p>“You have my word the agency will make it up to you,” Petyr replied, chancing to lay his hands on her shoulders, soothing her. “I promise this week will be unforgettable.”</p><p>Those brilliant blue eyes searched his.</p><p>“Okay,” she finally agreed. “But I… I don’t need to have a good time. I mean, it will be nice, but…” Alayne looked at her shoes, blushing. “God, this is so embarrassing, but I need my <em>ex </em>to believe I’m having a good time. Did the agency explain it? I need him to believe you’re… in love with me, that you want me so badly you can’t keep your hands off me. Can you… do that?”</p><p>Petyr smiled. “Oh, with pleasure, sweetling.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sansa stole another sidelong glance at Harry’s fine suit… and how finely it clung to his lean muscles. She chewed her lip without realizing it.</p>
<p><em>I’d expected some beefcake. Handsome, sure, but big and burly. </em>Not exactly her taste.</p>
<p>Harry was so much older than she’d anticipated, but Sansa welcomed this surprise, too. She wasn’t sure a boy her age had the charm to pull off what she needed that week. And to be honest, she’d always secretly been attracted to older men.</p>
<p>Sansa swallowed, hard. <em>Especially when they looked like that.</em></p>
<p>Not to mention, it would drive Joffrey <em>insane </em>to see her on the arm of such a suave gentleman. Sansa smiled and wiggled a bit in the plane’s cool leather seat, picturing the look on Joffrey’s face.</p>
<p>“Champagne?” the flight attendant asked, and, grinning, Sansa took the flute.</p>
<p>Harry watched her, an amused grin on his own lips. But he shook his head when offered a glass.</p>
<p>Sansa knit her brows, studying him. “You’re so… relaxed. I guess you’re used to the agency flying you places. I- this is my first time on a plane like this.”</p>
<p>“Then I’m honored to be the one to accompany you.”</p>
<p><em>Damn,</em> he said it so smoothly, Sansa took a sip to cover her blush.</p>
<p>Should she <em>casually </em>drop that she’d just been sipping champagne on a charter aircraft as they flew across the Atlantic? Margaery would be bonkers envious. The Lannisters and Tyrells flew first class, but always commercial.</p>
<p>The Starks sat in sensible coach.</p>
<p>Securing the airline tickets was a bit of an ordeal that morning, though, as Sansa wasn’t ready to relinquish her name.</p>
<p>It wasn’t just that she felt personally vulnerable, it was that her family had a certain standing… maybe not in the states, but certainly in England. And if this man heard the last name <em>Stark,</em> he might think to take advantage. Blackmail her or something. She knew she only stalled the inevitable, but Harry surprised her by pressing the agency’s credit card into her hand, allowing Sansa to speak with the jet staff directly in order to book her ticket and discreetly provide her name on the passenger manifesto.</p>
<p><em>“Please,” </em>she’d whispered at the end of the call, figuring they were used to eccentric requests,<em> “make a note to call me Ms. Stone.” </em></p>
<p>Sansa got the feeling Harry good-naturedly enjoyed the mystery. From what she gathered so far, he seemed to take everything in stride. Coupled with his silver-fox good looks, it was no wonder he was so frequently booked.</p>
<p>God, not to mention his vast knowledge on a wide array of subjects. As they flew, Harry engaged Sansa in topics ranging from the political climate in Hungary to design trends in the Flatiron district’s shared workspaces, including opinions on color schemes.</p>
<p>Margaery was going to <em>die </em>when she met him.</p>
<p>Although… her parents were going to be a bit prickly about his age, Sansa thought, taking a generous sip of champagne.</p>
<p><em>Ugh.</em> Her mother, especially.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>Outside the steps to her building, Petyr held the redhead’s eyes, gently reclaiming his phone from her hands. <em>Men could drown in those eyes,</em> he thought. He held up one finger to indicate he’d just be a moment, then stepped out of earshot.</p>
<p>“Is everything settled?” he asked the charter’s receptionist, still on the line. “Perfect. One note, please. Ensure your staff addresses me as Mr. Hardyng, Harold Hardyng, throughout the flight.”</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>Harry didn’t sleep much on the plane, and neither did she. Sansa felt so at ease chatting away, all fears about the coming week evaporated.</p>
<p>… But then a new worry tickled at the back of her mind every time Harry cocked his smirk in her direction. Just a nudge, at first, but growing stronger.</p>
<p>She’d never expected to be attracted to her escort, never felt in <em>any </em>danger of actually falling into bed with him.</p>
<p><em>But no, </em>she quickly thought. She could never fall for someone who did <em>that </em>as an occupation. Not that she was making judgements – after all, she’d hired the man. But she didn’t want to have a <em>relationship</em> with a guy who seduced women for a living. And Sansa badly wanted a relationship.</p>
<p>With Joffrey.</p>
<p>No, she’d stick to the plan. Use Harry to make Joffrey jealous and her prince would come crawling back on his knees.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>Eyes followed them across the floor and Petyr instinctively placed his hand on the small of Alayne’s back, guiding her into the chic, dark, lobby. If his familiarity bothered her, she didn’t show it. She was too busy gawking, taking in the sumptuous decor.</p>
<p>
  <em>Wise that she’d built in a bumper day to refresh.</em>
</p>
<p>Petyr respected that. But the modest airport hotel she’d booked to sleep off the jet lag wouldn’t do. He’d <em>made a call</em> to the boss to arrange their accommodations at the Rosewood, downtown.</p>
<p>Whoever Alayne was, fashionable hotels were not common to her. And yet, interestingly, she bore the sophistication of a graceful upbringing. Petyr could have easily dug deeper into her files; she’d likely used her real credit card with Ros. But it had been so long since he’d been challenged, he enjoyed working at the riddle, playing a little game with himself by sprinkling questions throughout their flight.</p>
<p>That Alayne never tripped up, never revealed too much -- that she seemed to know when he casually dropped a seemingly-innocuous question -- intrigued Petyr all the more.</p>
<p>
  <em>Who is she? </em>
</p>
<p>As long as it had been since he’d been challenged, it had been even longer since he’d been matched.</p>
<p>The hotel’s elderly desk clerk raised eyebrows as Petyr and Alayne approached, before quickly reworking his face into a pleasant smile.</p>
<p><em>It does look as if this stunning lady is young enough to be my daughter, doesn’t it?</em> <em>You assume I’m her sugar daddy, that I’ve paid for her in some manner. </em></p>
<p>Petyr was sure each head turned in their direction assumed the same.</p>
<p>He breathed a soft chuckle.</p>
<p><em>I wonder what they all would think to know </em>she’s<em> paid for </em>me?</p>
<p>#</p>
<p><em>Ned never allowed the family to stay at hotels this posh,</em> Sansa mused, standing by the check-in desk. <em>The agency must </em>really <em>feel bad about the mix-up. </em></p>
<p>“Right this way, Mr. Baelish,” the desk clerk said, stretching his hand to indicate the bellhop to his left. “Welcome back.”</p>
<p>Harry turned to Sansa and winked. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, like a schoolgirl sharing a secret… only, there was nothing girlish in his deep rasp, in the heat it stoked within Sansa’s belly and the gooseflesh it rose on her neck.</p>
<p>“I still have the credit card. We get to pretend I’m the boss for the night.”</p>
<p>Sansa giggled and took the arm Harry offered. Odd that even in that short time, whenever he was physically distant, she felt drawn to him, like Harry had his own gravitational pull specially formulated to compel her. And every time he came near, it felt electric, raising a small charge, a thrill, within her.</p>
<p><em>This feels like a dangerous game,</em> her mind warned.</p>
<p>When they settled into the well-appointed room, Harry, the perfect gentleman, tipped the bellhop as he departed and Sansa suddenly, awkwardly, stood alone with her escort.  </p>
<p>“There are better rooms available with king beds, but I thought you’d prefer a double.”</p>
<p>Sansa blushed. “Thank you. I am… starting to feel very tired. Would you mind if I took a quick shower first and then we slept a bit?”</p>
<p>“Please, go right ahead. I can fix you a nightcap while I wait, if you like.”  </p>
<p>“You really are a full-service agency, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Harry winked again, causing a flutter in Sansa’s stomach.</p>
<p>
  <em>Definitely dangerous. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was picturing an airline such as Net Jets or the like, but I've never actually flown them so I have no idea if they can A) cross the Atlantic or B) schedule/rush flight plans on such short notice. If anyone here charters planes or works in the industry and knows something I've messed up, I'm sorry about that!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hi,” Sansa said, exiting the bathroom.</p><p><em>Hi? God, that was lame. </em> </p><p>She’d forgotten to bring her suitcase inside with her so she wore only the plush, white robe the hotel provided, making her feel extra-awkward.</p><p>For a moment, Harry stared at her as if he wanted to see what was beneath her robe, as if he <em>could </em>see what was beneath it. Sansa was about to dismiss it as an act when he shifted his gaze, as if remembering himself.</p><p>
  <em>Unless that was an act as well? Was he that good? </em>
</p><p>This was all rather… confusing.</p><p>Harry raised a cocktail in her direction. “Whiskey, neat, with four Luxardo cherries. You mentioned you have a sweet tooth.”</p><p>“Yes. I did.”</p><p>
  <em>He certainly was attentive.  </em>
</p><p>“You’re not drinking?” she asked, taking the glass from his hands. That curious charge passed through her skin where they touched.</p><p>“I prefer to keep a clear head when such a beautiful lady is in my care.”</p><p>Sansa turned crimson again. It seemed a frequent reaction to this man and his flattery.<em> But was that a polite way of saying he didn’t drink on the job?</em></p><p>That’s what she was to him. A job.</p><p>And that made him… her employee?</p><p>How strange, for a man almost twice her age and ten times as worldly. Sansa couldn’t wrap her head around it.</p><p>“There will be a lot of alcohol served this week,” she pointed out. “Do you ever drink?”</p><p>“I do. I will. Socially, at tomorrow’s first event, shall we say?”</p><p>Sansa smiled in agreement.</p><p>“Why don’t I shower while you change for bed?” Harry said, offering her a way to preserve her modesty without her having to ask.</p><p>“Thanks,” Sansa replied, grateful he seemed so smooth in taking the lead.</p><p>#</p><p>By the time Harry finished showering (and Sansa tried very hard not to think about having a naked man in her room) she had polished off her drink and hadn’t even realized she was absently rubbing her shoulder when he re-appeared.</p><p>“Are you hurt?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Oh. No.” Sansa said, quickly dropping her hand. “Just a little stiff from the flight.”</p><p>“Why don’t I give you a massage before bed?” Harry suggested, sending her pulse racing.  </p><p>“Oh, um, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that.” <em>Did he,</em> she wondered? “I mean, I don’t know that it’s, um, included in the package.”</p><p>
  <em>Shut up, shut up! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Was she being prudish? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>What would Margaery do?</em>
</p><p>Sansa gulped. By now, had most women jumped into bed and… <em>oh god, was Harry waiting for… expecting her… to request he go down on her or something?</em></p><p><em>That’s </em>exactly<em> what Margaery would do. She’d lie back and get her money’s worth. </em></p><p>He had to know this wasn’t that type of engagement. She’d made that clear, hadn’t she?</p><p>Unwillingly, Sansa’s eyes lingered on Harry’s mouth, sending her heart speeding and making her feel suddenly clammy.</p><p>Maybe she’d better agree to the massage, lest he press her for more.</p><p>Maybe she’d better agree to the massage, lest she <em>envision</em> more.  </p><p>“Complimentary service,” Harry said. “I’ve been instructed to make sure you’re well compensated for the inconvenience.”</p><p>Sansa frowned. “Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t want you to feel obligated-”</p><p>Harry held up his hands. “Not at all. I enjoyed conversing with you on the flight, Ms. Stone. I’d like it if we might be… friends. I know it’s a bit of an odd arrangement, but you’re someone I would consider a friend under other circumstances, under any circumstances. You’re bright, beautiful, and possess a generous spirit.”</p><p>Sansa turned crimson under so much praise. Even if he was paid to say it.</p><p>“Please. You’ve entertained me with your wit on the plane, let me return the favor.”</p><p>“Well, I suppose you <em>are </em>the boss tonight, Mr. Baelish,” Sansa teased, hoping it sounded at least playful, if not particularly witty.</p><p>It must have pleased Harry enough though; his tongue swiped over his lips and he flashed one of those alluring smirks.</p><p>How could she <em>not </em>lay down after that? His charm was so utterly <em>disarming.</em></p><p>Slowly, Sansa positioned herself face-down on the bed, tugging her sleep shorts to ensure her rear was sufficiently covered. <em>It’s just a massage,</em> she thought, calming her breathing.</p><p>Sansa swallowed thickly the first time Harry’s hands touched her bare skin. How long had it been since a man touched her?<em> Er, well, never really. </em>But it had been more than six months since a <em>boy </em>fumbled with her bra.</p><p>Harry worked methodically, with just enough pressure to relax her, to send her nearly drifting off.  But when he reached the small of her back, Sansa flinched.</p><p>“Does it hurt here?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. It didn’t, but some old habit in Sansa had instinctively braced for it.</p><p>“I had an accident when I was younger. Injured my tailbone.”</p><p>Harry paused and in the following silence Sansa wondered if she’d said something wrong.</p><p>“Would you be opposed to me sliding down your shorts a bit? I can work on it for you, if that’s alright.”</p><p>Sansa stiffened. <em>He’s safe,</em> she reminded herself. <em>It’s not like he’s trying to seduce you.</em></p><p>“I promise I won’t do anything you don’t like.”</p><p><em>It </em>is <em>sore from the long flight,</em> she argued. <em>And it would be like being seen by the doctor. Or an actual masseuse. Clinical. Chaste. He’s a professional, not a player. </em></p><p>“Okay,” Sansa agreed.</p><p>
  <em>Except you’ve never felt this way around any doctor before.  </em>
</p><p>Harry slid the top of her shorts down, an inch or so, taking the hem of her panties along with it.</p><p>“Is this okay?” he asked, stopping.</p><p>“Yes,” Sansa breathed, frightened and excited. Because it was more than okay. It was… <em>nice.</em></p><p>“How did you hurt yourself?” Harry asked, and Sansa wondered if he made conversation to relax her.</p><p>“Horseback riding. Actually, it was a bit of a blessing in disguise. I hated riding but mum insisted all the children have a proper country upbringing. Once I injured myself, I was excused to spend my Saturday mornings taking additional dance practice at the ballet studio instead.”</p><p>Sansa pursed her lips. <em>Did that give away too much of her background?</em></p><p>“Did you have many brothers and sisters growing up?” Harry asked, and his hands slowed down just a bit, telling Sansa he put more weight in the question than his casual tone suggested.</p><p>“No,” Sansa lied, trying to backpedal. <em>Well, it wasn’t a lie, per se.</em> It was all a matter of perspective.</p><p>“But you have one sister your age, the one who’s getting married?”</p><p>Sansa licked her lips, considering. Margaery wasn’t <em>really </em>her sister, but she’d always called her that and had used the term with Harry. He didn’t really need to know the whole story.</p><p>“Mm-hm,” she agreed.</p><p>They fell silent for a few minutes after that, Harry resuming his previous pressure and Sansa sighing into the pleasure.</p><p>“Would you mind if I go a bit lower? The tailbone is one of the more difficult areas to treat.”</p><p>“No,” Sansa whispered. “I mean, yes. It’s okay. How do you know so much about the body?”</p><p>“The agency provides certification in massage therapy, as well as university scholarships for those inclined to study medicine. You be astounded how many doctors are actually ex-escorts. Medical school is expensive, you know.”</p><p>Sansa blinked. “Really?”</p><p>“No, not really,” Harry laughed, and Sansa laughed along with him, turning red again. “I’m teasing you.”</p><p>
  <em>God, why did she love hearing his laugh?</em>
</p><p>Harry’s hands – warm and firm - stroked low on either side of her back, then moved deeper, to the top curves of her bottom.</p><p>“You can relax, Ms. Stone. I won’t hurt you or do anything you don’t like.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to release her tension. “Trust is something I’m working on. My ex… we broke up rather suddenly and I still don’t understand what happened. Just so you know what you’re walking into. The truth is, I don’t fully know myself.”</p><p>“You can trust me, Ms. Stone.”</p><p><em>That much is true,</em> Sansa thought. <em>I paid you, after all. I’m in control.</em></p><p>But Harry’s magnetism made Sansa think a few drinks in her and she’d lose it.</p><p>#</p><p>“Alayne,” Sansa heard someone call the name. <em>Who’s Alayne?</em> she wondered. <em>She’d been having the most wonderful dream… </em></p><p>Blinking her eyes open, it all came back to her. She was in a fancy hotel. With the handsome escort she’d hired. Who’d been rubbing her back until… she must have fallen asleep.</p><p>Sansa sat up in bed, pulling up the sheets around her chest and biting her lip as she smiled shyly.</p><p>“Sorry. I must have drifted off.”</p><p>“I should hope so, that was the plan.”</p><p>“Right.” <em>But not while you were touching me,</em> she thought, embarrassed.</p><p>“You slept quite a bit,” Harry remarked.</p><p>“Oh,” Sansa shook the sleepiness from her brain. “We should get going. Today is the first event.” She scrambled out of bed, smile widening.</p><p>“I brought a couple of dresses. Would you mind giving me your opinion? A little fashion show, of sorts? If I can be honest… I want to make Joffrey eat his heart out when he sees me.”  </p><p>#</p><p><em>He didn’t like them.</em> Sansa could tell before Harry even spoke. No, <em>dislike </em>would be too strong a word. But he didn’t light up the way she hoped.</p><p>Not at the Ted Baker with the lavender florals, nor the H&amp;M dress with the yellow ruffles and pleats. Granted, it was polyester and didn’t drape as well as she’d like, but it was the best she could afford right now. The only other option was the Lily Pulitzer her mother had gifted her last year. Not even Sansa thought that pink monstrosity looked good on her, but the Starks and all their kin favored dresses with that old monied-prep look for summer gatherings.</p><p>“Might I speak honestly?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Please,” Sansa allowed, though she wasn’t sure she could take it.</p><p>“I think you can do better for a first impression.”</p><p>She sighed, feeling a little embarrassed even though it wasn’t her fault. Harry wasn’t wrong, but she had nothing better to wear.</p><p>“I had a few nice dresses at home, but the thing is… I can’t show up in something too… New York. All the girls will be wearing pastels. Florals. Mummy’s pearls. You don’t know the type.”</p><p>“I think I do. But I know a store we can pop into, just up the road. It’s on the way.”  </p><p>“I… can’t.”</p><p>“Please,” Harry said, and Sansa could feel herself weakening under his charm. “Humor me.”</p><p>#</p><p>“Harry, I can’t afford these dresses.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, sweetling, it’s on the agency.”</p><p>Alayne stared at him intently. “No.”</p><p>Petyr licked his lips. He wasn’t used to getting pushback when he wanted to buy a girl a present. “It’s all covered. Part of a… discretionary fund they set aside for things like this. Sometimes we use it for surprise steak dinners or mini-excursions, like a sunset cruise. It’s all standard, all covered.”</p><p>Alayne blinked, tilted her chin up an inch. “I don’t believe you.”</p><p>She was tougher than she looked <em>and stubborn.</em></p><p>Petyr didn’t confess to lying, even if they both knew he did. Instead, he waved his hand, “Fine. Wear the purple flowers. You ex will never have the pleasure of seeing you in this show-stopping emerald dress, never have that moment to recall, when you first walked into the room and he laid eyes on you once more, the green color setting off the fire in your hair.”</p><p>He wasn’t falsely flattering her. Alayne was a knockout and this dress showcased the fact. It’s sweetheart neckline exposed just the right amount of her ivory décolletage, the slim bodice drew attention to her trim torso, and the skirt fluttered out in a feminine and flirty manner, keeping the ensemble youthful and casual enough for an afternoon’s affair.</p><p>Personally, Petyr liked the tight black pencil-dress as well, but Alayne had immediately shaken her head when he held it out.</p><p>“You <em>know </em>that’s not for a daytime gathering, that’s not for… <em>ever,</em> for me. I mean, it’s gorgeous, but I’d be too self-conscious wearing something like that.”</p><p>Regrettably, Petyr had hung it back on the rack. The dress wasn’t the least tawdry, as she’d made it seem. It was practically perfect, and Alayne would undoubtedly break hearts left and right if she wore it.</p><p>“Fine,” Alayne finally sighed, unable to stop gazing longingly at the emerald dress in Petyr’s hands. “I’ve already taken thousands out of my savings to buy you, what’s another few hundred for a dress?”</p><p>She snatched the item from his hands and brought it over to the salesmen behind the counter.</p><p>As he rang up the dress, Alayne’s phone rang.</p><p>“Shit,” she cursed, then covered her mouth, quickly, primly.</p><p>“Sorry,” she mouthed, though Petyr found it adorable. “We’re late. My sister is calling. Give me a minute, she’s going to be pissed.”</p><p>Flustered, Alayne stepped outside to take the call. For just a moment, Petyr watched her pace as she spoke. Then he turned to the salesmen and quickly whipped out his credit card.</p><p>“Void that out. Ring it up on mine. Let her sign the old receipt.”</p><p>He glanced over at the rack behind them and lifted the black dress.</p><p>“Throw this in as well, but don’t bag it with the other. I’ll call later with delivery instructions.”</p><p>When the salesman opened his mouth to protest, Petyr slid the crisp banknotes across the counter.</p><p>“This should cover the inconvenience.”</p><p>#</p><p>“Oh god. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I must be out of my mind.”</p><p>Alayne’s fingers dug into Petyr’s arm as they crossed the lawn, heading toward the historic country house where the welcome soirée was already in full swing out back.</p><p>She looked <em>stunning.</em></p><p>After buying the dress, Alayne had scurried back into the changing room to put it on. From the store, they hired a car service as there was no longer time for the lengthy train ride. Considering they still hauled all their luggage, Petyr found it a much more comfortable means of transportation.</p><p>“Oh god, it’s been years since I’ve seen him. Oh god, oh god.”</p><p>Petyr helped Alayne up the steps, opening the door to allow her entry into the vestibule. The old manor was surprisingly bright and airy. None of the guests were nearby, everyone milled about in the sunroom to the back of the house, or had already moved outside on such a beautiful day.</p><p>“Oh! Oh god, Harry. I’m so nervous, I never even told you.”</p><p>In the black-and-white checkered foyer, Alayne turned to him. She shook her head.</p><p>“I’m so silly. My name. I never told you my real name. You’re about to find out anyway.”</p><p>Before she could speak, Petyr heard a woman’s voice behind him. There was something familiar about it.</p><p>“Sansa!” the voice happily exclaimed. Not a beat later, it asked, <em>“Petyr?”</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi all! I hope the massage isn't too left-field; I wanted Petyr and Sansa to be physically intimate without being too romantic or sexual. I actually injured my tailbone and it is an impossibly awkward area to rub. </p><p>Also, I don't know how I made Petyr both a bit of an escort and a bit of a sugar daddy at same time, but here we are! </p><p>I did not get this story up in time, but the "Trapped Player" theme will come though on the last chapter. I think.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Petyr seemed to process events at a different speed than others, as if he operated in another dimension where one second slowed and extended into several, allowing his mind to race ahead while those around him continued on the normal plane.</p><p>Thus, he ran the gamut of emotions faster than the two redheaded ladies beside him. Shock, disbelief, acceptance… even a fleeting suspicion, that he’d somehow been ensnared. It wasn’t easy to surprise him, but then, no one else really <em>did </em>get one over on him. Petyr had done this to himself; his own gaming brought about this predicament.</p><p>Finally, he landed somewhere between smugness – that he’d ironically wound up the <em>paid </em>date of Cat’s daughter – and panic – that she was going to misunderstand everything that had happened.</p><p>“Cat,” Petyr began. He paused, as if considering, then swept her into an uncharacteristic hug, gently turning her away from Sansa’s gaping expression and allowing Petyr to address them both.</p><p><em>“Cat.</em> It’s been too long. Sansa and I are happy to find you away from the guests and we’re so sorry we didn’t get the chance to tell you sooner. Now is hardly ideal but… we thought it would be better to tell you in person. Sansa tried to call you outside for a chat, but her cell isn’t working properly over here.”</p><p>Spin was second nature to Petyr, lying his fist language. He spoke the words almost at the same time his brain formed them, as if he were fed a line, reading off a Teleprompter while speaking.</p><p>“I know this comes as a shock, but Sansa and I have been dating the past three weeks. I’m afraid we invented this Harry story as cover, not wanting to cause distress before the wedding.”</p><p><em>“Petyr!”</em> Cat scoffed, red face twisted.</p><p>To her credit, Sansa only blinked, mouth parted. She didn’t interrupt to say anything foolish, but she couldn’t quite affix a mask so quickly either. Petyr wouldn’t have done better at her age, but in this case, he’d had a lot more practice.</p><p>“I recognize this is a bit of an awkward situation but know that I have treated your daughter with the utmost respect.” Petyr let his eyes flick toward Sansa before continuing. “Neither of us wanted to hide the truth from you, but neither did we want to selfishly interrupt the wedding planning or upset you with the news, especially not when we weren’t sure it was going anywhere.” </p><p>Petyr over-enunciated just a bit, simultaneously imparting to Sansa the lie they’d need to follow. He just hoped she went along with it, for both their sakes.</p><p>“It’s recently become clear that this is no mere fling. Despite the short time, Sansa and I have fallen for one another. Love, you might say.”</p><p>Petyr watched Sansa’s impossibly blue eyes round even further.</p><p>“Petyr!” Cat admonished, seemingly incapable of forming words further than his name, which, for her, might serve as a swearing beyond any other curse ever created.</p><p>“I know this is unexpected and you have every right to be furious with me. I ask only that you do what’s best for the bride – I know you don’t want to distress her or yourself this week – and simply observe your daughter and I together. I hope you’ll see what we feel for one another is real. Who knows? One day, it might not be out of the question for the two of us to wed.”</p><p>Sansa lost her composure at that, coughing and choking on air.  </p><p>“Petyr Baelish,” Cat began, angrily. Then, as if remembering her daughter, she turned. <em>“Sansa.” </em></p><p>Thankfully, the younger redhead had managed to close her mouth, if not banish the dazed look from her eyes.</p><p>“I – I’m sorry, mother.” She murmured the words without any real feeling behind them. “I – we, should have told you sooner.” It ended slightly upturned, like a question.</p><p>“Mrs. Stark?” a man called, hurrying toward them. “Mrs. Stark, could I borrow you for a moment, please? There’s an issue in the kitchens.”</p><p><em>Saved by the staff,</em> Petyr thought.  </p><p>“Mrs. Stark?” the caterer interrupted again. “Just a moment of your time, please?”</p><p>Cat whipped her head between the two of them and the frazzled staff member.</p><p>“It’s a bit of an issue, but nothing that can’t be resolved with some ah, ah, ingenuity. We require your authority…”</p><p>Cat scrunched her eyes shut, as if counting to calm herself or willing her complexion to return to ivory and by her command it <em>did.</em></p><p>“Fine,” she growled. “The two of you – don’t go anywhere. We’ll discuss this when I return.”</p><p>Petyr blinked, sighing though his nose. He’d momentarily been spared the wrath of one redhead. But when he switched his gaze from Cat’s receding form back to Sansa, he met the fury of another.</p><p>Clearly, Sansa had passed from shock to anger. <em>How best to smooth her feathers?</em> Petyr readied himself for more fast-talking when she grabbed his arm.</p><p>“Into the closet,” Sansa demanded, dragging him to the alcove. <em>“Now.”</em></p><p>#</p><p>There weren’t many coats, owing to the good weather, but other guests had arrived and come straight to the party, dropping off suitcases, purses, hats and even gifts in the old cloakroom.</p><p>Sansa shoved Petyr roughly against the wall. He held up his hands to show he didn’t intend to protest, but she pushed him with more force than necessary, regardless.  </p><p>“Who are you?” she gritted through her teeth.  </p><p>She didn’t really mean <em>who.</em> Sansa knew, vaguely, about Petyr Baelish from stories her mother told of a childhood back in Ireland. What she meant was <em>how?</em> How are you here? How did this happen? <em>What </em>is happening, exactly?</p><p>Sansa sucked in a deep breath, steadying herself.</p><p>“Do you moonlight as Harry-the-escort or are you pretending to be Harry? What is going on? Explain. Start at the beginning. <em>Don’t lie.”</em> With the last two words she pressed harder into his shoulders.</p><p>Petyr held his hands up, fingers spread wide.  </p><p>“I run an escort agency, amongst other businesses. After reading an article, you called my assistant to schedule a date with Harrold Hardyng. Harry went skydiving the day before your flight and broke both his legs. That day we met on the steps, I drove up that day to tell you, to apologize in person. But when you saw me you believed me to be Harry and I…” Petyr shrugged, “didn’t tell you otherwise.”</p><p>“Me? Don’t you dare make it like this is my fault!”</p><p>Petyr smirked. “I caught one glimpse of you waiting on your doorsteps and I thought you were stunning – you <em>are</em> stunning. I made a decision on the spot to take Harry’s place so that I could accompany you.”</p><p>Sansa deepened her scowl against the rising blush.</p><p>“All this time… You said I could trust you and you’ve been lying to me this whole time.”</p><p>She gasped. “You got a look at my… my…” Sansa suddenly felt the need to be extra-prim.</p><p><em>“…bum. </em>You looked at my bum.”</p><p>“Would it make you feel better if I let you get a look at my bum?”</p><p>“Maybe it would,” she retorted, before correcting, <em>“I mean no.”</em></p><p>Sansa huffed, looking away. Quickly, her eyes flicked back, narrowing.</p><p>“Did you do this to get a look at me? Or… did you know? Of course you knew and you’re seeking some… some… dirt on the Starks. Revenge or something.”</p><p>“If we’re going to discuss lying, may I remind you that you have a sister your own age but not many other siblings?” Petyr mocked. “When I questioned you, <em>you </em>determinedly hid who you really are.”</p><p>Sansa bit her lip.</p><p>“I don’t understand. What is really going on here? Do you really expect me to believe you hopped on a plane just because you fancied me? You’re not an escort. You <em>lied </em>to me.”</p><p>“Making everything I said about you true.”</p><p>Petyr pinned her with his dark stare and Sansa couldn’t fight the heat in her cheeks this time. His body was uncomfortably close to hers.</p><p>“What am I supposed to do now?” she mumbled, half to herself. Her grip on his shoulders loosened, but she didn’t step back.</p><p>“Sansa – and that’s a lovely name by the way - I’ve already calculated every scenario. There’s no way out but through. You don’t want to announce you hired an escort to make your ex-boyfriend jealous. If you feign some sudden fight between us, some excuse to break-up, that leaves you alone for the week and still doesn’t solve your problem. It might even reflect back on you in an unflattering light. But think about it, I’m as trapped as you are. If you don’t play along, I’ll suffer as well. I don’t hide my businesses but I don’t go around announcing some of the more sordid in polite company either. I’d rather not have my work gossiped about across the finer homes of England.”</p><p>Petyr licked his lips. “I’m not blind to our age difference. If your family doesn’t believe we’re serious, they’ll think I’m just some creep who picked you up and manipulated you into a relationship.”  </p><p>“You <em>are </em>just some creep who picked me up, you <em>did </em>manipulate me into relationship."</p><p>Petyr scrunched his lips and raised his eyebrows. He leaned in, insufferably smug as he rasped, “But when you thought I was your escort you were pleased.”</p><p>Sansa opened her mouth. She closed it. She huffed through her nose and stared daggers at Petyr.</p><p>“Why don’t we make a deal,” he offered. “For the duration of the week, I’ll make sure Joffrey and the rest of the wedding party sees how madly in love with you I am. In return, you’ll demonstrate an equal state of adoration for me. Perhaps, in the end, you get what you want, sweetling. Your Joffrey to come crawling back to you.”</p><p>“What do you get?”</p><p>Petyr shrugged. “I told you. I’ll get to save face.”</p><p>“And that’s all?” Sansa asked, eyebrows arched.</p><p>Petyr paused a beat before nodding.</p><p><em>Can I do this?</em> Sansa wondered. <em>Make pretend, knowing he tricked me?</em> Lost in her revere, she didn’t hear the guest approach.  </p><p>“Kiss me,” Petyr suddenly whispered.</p><p>
  <em>“What?”</em>
</p><p>“Someone is coming. Kiss me now.”</p><p>Dumbfounded, Sansa didn’t move. She squealed as Petyr grabbed her, turned her, and pressed her up against the wall in his place. His lips were upon hers before she could think, and dazed, she followed his lead.</p><p>Right before the door opened, his tongue slipped into her mouth. Sansa let out a small moan in spite of herself.</p><p><em>“Oh!”</em> she heard someone cry, light flooding the dark coatroom. But it happened almost far away, outside her ability to care.</p><p><em>God, Petyr… Petyr is a good kisser</em>. His hands stroked her cheeks, her hair… as if he were really into it, not just pretending.</p><p>Had the guest retreated to give them privacy or was someone still watching?</p><p>She didn’t know, she was too distracted by Petyr’s hand running down her sides and pulling her hips to him, making her gasp.</p><p>Petyr’s body, hard, flush to hers, caged her as he kissed her. In return, Sansa melted, molding herself to him.</p><p><em>To put on a show,</em> she reminded herself, primly. <em>This is all just pretend.</em></p><p>But when Petyr pulled back, ending the kiss, Sansa’s heart was beating faster than she’d remembered in a long time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sorry for ending here and I wish I could go on! I hope you all enjoyed this story. </p><p>Please feel free to take it and write more if you like! I'll happily read any continuation, I just can't continue it myself. I love PxS so much, I'm always a little sad when I finish a fic. And I think this story has potential.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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